Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

“Tell us something useful,” snapped Father. “Everyone knows the Forgotten King skewered her through the chest,”

  Mother let out a wailing chirp and nuzzled her feathery head against the side of my neck.

  “If you can’t stay civil, I’ll banish you like I did the day Princess Alba was born,” she snapped back.

  “Sorry, Dr. Streamer.” Aunt Cendrilla knelt at my side and laced her fingers through mine.

  Hope sprung in my chest, and my eyes opened a fraction. Aunt Cendrilla might not be a full fairy, but she was one of the strongest beings in the Known World. The only people I knew of with greater power were my little cousin and the Queen of the Fairies.

  She gave my hand a comforting squeeze and said to the doctor, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t cause you any more trouble. What’s the purpose of this wound?”

  “It’s designed to drain the victim’s magic,” replied the doctor. “Any healing or energy given to her will fall away into the ether. Only a high fairy of equal strength can fix this.”

  Aunt Cendrilla placed a hand over my wound. Fiery magic seeped into me but not much else happened. She let out a sob of frustration. “The quadruplets are still in control of my fairy magic!”

  My eyes squeezed shut, my sinuses stung, and a wave of disappointment threatened to make me drown in my tears.

  Father growled. “Get Vanus or that fairy doctor who takes care of you in Elphame.”

  “Her Majesty closed the realm,” said Aunt Cendrilla. “No one can move in or out.”

  Mother raised her head. “Chrysus could.”

  “What did Paloma say?” Aunt Cendrilla asked Father. “It sounded important.”

  Father replied, “She said Chrysus—”

  With a flash of white light, a little voice said, “Are you talking about me, Uncle Orson?”

  My eyes snapped open, and I drew in a breath between my teeth.

  “Come here,” said Aunt Cendrilla.

  Chrysus flew over, green eyes wide. Golden curls framed his cherubic face, and his mouth formed an ‘O.’ His head tilted to the side, and his wings made an unhappy flutter. “What’s wrong with Alba?”

  “A bad fairy hurt her.” Aunt Cendrilla wrapped her arms around the little fairy’s middle. “Can you throw away the bad magic and close up the holes?”

  “Will she be better if I did it?” he asked.

  Aunt Cendrilla smiled. “Yes.”

  “Will she let me ride her green dragon if I helped her?”

  “I’m sure she will.”

  I sent Fyrian a silent apology. If Chrysus succeeded where everyone had failed, he would probably want more than a dragon ride.

  Chrysus pressed his small hand on my chest, and a sharp pain lanced through my heart, exactly where the Forgotten King had pierced it. He snatched his hand away and glanced at Aunt Cendrilla. “It’s hurting her.”

  “But are you fixing the hole?” she asked.

  The little fairy nodded.

  “Permission to spell some pain relief elixirs into Princess Alba’s belly,” asked Dr. Streamer.

  “Granted,” replied Father.

  With a flash of yellow light, the ache across my body subsided, leaving me light-headed.

  “Go on,” said Aunt Cendrilla.

  Chrysus placed his hand back on the wound. This time, only the dullest sensations remained, reminding me of how I’d imagined flesh sticking and knitting together. I exhaled a long sigh and relaxed into the treatment.

  “Good boy.” Aunt Cendrilla kissed his cheek.

  “Well done.” Father ruffled his golden curls.

  Chrysus scowled and rearranged his hair with his free hand.

  Father knelt beside Aunt Cendrilla and took off his jacket. “Is the damage fixed?”

  Dr. Streamer made another diagnosis spell. “Yes. It’s now safe to give her a donation.”

  “Good.” Father rolled up his shirtsleeve. “Transfer two of my lives to Alba.”

  Mother shifted on my collarbone. “Two?”

  “One for her, and one for that dragon, in case she needs it.”

  She let out a happy chirp. “Thank you!”

  “I would donate a thousand lives to keep either of you safe.” Father placed my hand on his large, calloused palm and wrapped his fingers around it, encasing me in warmth.

  After Dr. Streamer wrapped a cool, fleshy cord around our wrists, she raised her staff and pointed a stream of white magic where our hands joined. Father’s crackling magic seeped into my palm, reminding me of both the Sword of Lightning and his prickly personality. It trickled down the veins of my arms and filled my heart with its cool, potent power. A huge breath filled my lungs, the first I’d been able to take since being attacked by the Forgotten King.

  I sat up, making Mother roll down my chest and onto my lap. “Chrysus. Father. Thank you.”

  Father harrumphed. “You should have waited for us before you left the safety of the wards.”

  “Do you feel better now?” My little cousin wrapped his arms around my neck, engulfing me in the scent of wildflowers.

  “Much better, thanks to you.” I gave his back a gentle pat between the wings. Since Chrysus was in a helpful mood, he might be willing to do me another favor. “There are four little girls stuck in a dollhouse because of bad fairies. Do you think you can make them big?”

  Chrysus drew back, green eyes wide. “Like giants?”

  “Like normal girls.”

  He gave me a heart-meltingly sweet smile. “I can try.”

  “Thank you.” If he could fix the Forgotten King’s cursed wound, breaking a sprigan’s enchantment would be easy.”

  After casting King Magnar’s dung hut a curious glance, He flew in the opposite direction toward the mountain, presumably in search for the dollhouse. One of the witches guarding the dome of fairy iron would let him in.

  Mother transformed into a fairy and wrapped me in a warm hug. “I almost lost you. Please, don’t be reckless with your life again.”

  Exhaling a long breath, I hugged her back. “Sorry Mother, I promise that until I’ve made sure that wretched fairy will never hurt anyone again.”

  She drew back, tears glistening in her obsidian eyes. “He’s too strong. Now that he has that dragon under his command, he’ll be invincible.”

  “Not quite,” said a voice from behind. Master Fosco and all the dragon masters from the largomorphus barbacoa strolled toward us from the direction of the mountain. “If Princess Alba insists on confronting the Forgotten King, she’ll need a little more help.”

  My gaze traveled down to his empty hands. “A weapon?”

  “More dragon power,” he said.

  I gulped. “Before I accept your offer, I need to do one more thing.”

  Chapter 21

  With two extra lives, the cursed wounds repaired, and with the potential for more dragon power than my body could handle, I needed to open my connection with Fyrian. I closed my eyes and focused on the darkness, fumbling around for the wisps of clouds I’d used to conceal our bond. My fingertips brushed something soft, and I willed it away with my mind, revealing a sphere of tarnished fairy iron. Perhaps someone had damaged it while trying to open our bond. Cool relief flooded my veins. If they’d succeeded, Fyrian’s magic would have drained alongside mine.

  I peeled back the first layer of fairy iron, only to find blackened spots on the one beneath. The next one was a charred mess that crumbled under my imaginary fingertips, and the last had been destroyed. My heart twisted. This wasn’t the work of a healer trying to open our bond. It had been Fyrian, fighting her way to me.

  “Fyri?” I murmured.

  “Alba!” cried Fyrian. “What happened to our connection?”

  “I had to block it, otherwise he would have drained us both.”

  “But you would have left me behind.” A warm, sulfury breeze blew over my body.

  I opened my eyes, placing both hands on her snout. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you dying on my account.”

 
; She gave her head a tiny shake. “B-but we’re bonded. Losing you would be like losing my first and second lungs. Next time something like that happens, we’re going together!”

  My arms flopped to my sides, and I glanced away. Fyrian couldn’t ask me to let her die when there was a good chance she could survive if something happened to me. She wasn’t much older than me. A baby in dragon years. After an initial bout of heartbreak, she’d live a long, fulfilling life.

  “Alba,” she snapped. “Promise me.”

  “What would you do if you were dying and you could save my life by blocking our connection?”

  “I’d block it, of course. You have to live. Auntie Rilla and the others would be devastated.”

  “That’s how I feel about you.” I placed my hands back on her snout. “And you have lots of friends who would miss you if you were gone.”

  She remained silent for several moments before saying, “All right. But we have to do something to save Gladius.”

  Panic shot through my heart, and I scrambled to my feet. In all my concern about saving Fyrian’s life, I’d completely forgotten about Gladius. The Forgotten King had encased his head in a gold helmet—exactly the type he’d been struggling with when I’d fished him out of the pond in our dreamscape. “Can you hear him?”

  “He stopped communicating with me, too.”

  “Probably for your protection,” I said.

  Master Fosco placed a hand on my shoulder. “It looks like you’ve fixed whatever was wrong with your connection to Fyrian. Are you ready for more magic?”

  I nodded.

  Dr. Streamer ushered me onto a seat. “Which one of you dragons wants to go first?”

  Master Fosco sat next to me and offered me his hand. “I will.”

  I placed my hand in his, and he gave me an affectionate squeeze.

  “Fyrian-Lacerta showed me how tirelessly you and the others fought against the Forgotten King.” He swallowed. “I appreciate everything you have done to protect Mount Fornax and its inhabitants. As does all the Council of Dragons.”

  I glanced up at the group of dragon masters who all gave me warm smiles. Even Master Klauw wasn’t glaring as usual. A swell of joy filled my chest and thickened my throat.

  “So they should,” said Fyrian. “How many times have you been called to Fosco’s office and given written warnings? It shouldn’t take nearly dying for them to realize you’d been helping them all along.”

  A smile curved my lips. “None of that matters now. Soon, we’ll get all the power we need to free Gladius and defeat the Forgotten King.”

  “How?”

  “With a taste of his own medicine.”

  When Dr. Duclair declared the process complete, Master Fosco stood and gave me a gallant bow. “I will paint a picture of you and Fyrian in your honor.”

  Fyrian snorted. “It makes a change from the horrible drawings Klauw likes to make of us.”

  It took nearly an hour for the doctor to transfer the dragons’ magic into my body. I siphoned most of it to Fyrian, seeing as she had a larger capacity for storing power. Each dragon felt different. Master Roopal’s magic was as cool and as sharp as a blade, and Master Hyacinthus’ healing power reminded me of swimming through the Cursed Sea. Master Solum’s power made me think of the lush, fertile soil of Mount Bluebeard, while Master Klauw’s magic crackled and popped like embers jumping off a campfire. Master Torrero, the green-haired chef, donated power that filled me with the mentholated scent of Fyrian’s venom.

  By the time Master Aurelius had donated magic that felt like molten gold, my head spun, and Dr. Streamer had me place my head between my legs.

  Mother rubbed my back. “Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?”

  “I have to. Poor Gladius has proven that the dragons can’t face the Forgotten King. It would be like the trolls trying to turn against the Snow Queen without the help of you and your friends. Aunt Cendrilla’s lost control of half her power. The only person left is me.”

  “Have more faith in our daughter,” said Father. “She is stronger than you give her credit.”

  I straightened and gaped into his blue eyes. “Really?”

  “Of course. Why else do you think I pushed you to become a better sword fighter? You hold the magic of some of the most powerful people I know.”

  “He’s talking about himself,” said Fyrian.

  “And Mother, Aunt Cendrilla, and you,” I replied.

  “And now, seven master dragons.”

  “Thank you, Father. Your faith in me means a lot.”

  A wagon pulled by glacier wolves rode toward us. Their blue eyes shone in the darkness like lamplights. It stopped a few feet away, and Master Jesper stepped from the driver’s seat, carrying a shimmering cloak. “Cadet Bluford, or should I say, Princess Alba?”

  “Alba’s fine,” I replied.

  The troll knelt beside where I sat. “I couldn’t help thinking that I allowed you to face the Forgotten King unprepared.”

  I shook my head. “There wasn’t much anyone could do about his surprise attack. It never occurred to me that he could steal magic directly from another person.”

  “Well, I’ve adjusted the leave-no-trace invisibility cloak.” Master Jesper held up the clearly visible garment. “I’ve removed the invisibility ward and replaced it with fairy iron. If he so much as attempts to touch you, the cloak will deliver a bout of well-deserved pain.”

  The troll pulled out another cloak from its burlap sack and arranged the two cloaks to form a double layer. I held it up, and I was about to slip my hands through the armholes, when Mother said, “Wait.”

  My eyes widened. “Huh?”

  “I won’t be able to touch you when you put on that cloak.” She wrapped her arms around my neck, engulfing me in her warm, wildflower scent. “Be careful, darling. Don’t be easy on him because he’s family. They’ve never done anything for us.”

  I gave her a tight hug. “He’s going to regret ever having stolen my magic.”

  Drawing back from her embrace, I shrugged on the cloak, pulled up the hood, and the cloak closed around me, forming a second armor that stretched over my boots, hands, and even across my face. Mother transformed into a bluebird and flew onto Aunt Cendrilla’s shoulder. I supposed she was annoyed with Father for letting me fight the Forgotten King. Even if he had forbidden me, I would find a way to sneak out with Fyrian.

  “Thank you.” I turned to Master Jesper. “Will it interfere with the enchantment in my armor that keeps me attached to dragon scales?”

  The troll shook its head. “It won’t affect anything else except to activate a plate of fairy iron anywhere that’s touched by a fairy.”

  I nodded. “Good. What about Fyrian? She’ll be fighting at my side, and I don’t want him to attack me through her.”

  Fyrian bobbed her head. “Excellent point.”

  Master Jesper reached into its burlap sack. “Madam Evolene and I produced enough cloaks for four dragons and eight humans. I’ve taken the liberty of imbuing all the cloaks with fairy iron in case anyone wishes to ride out with you.”

  Niger stepped forward. “I wish to fight by your side, but I will respect your wishes and lead the team in the south.”

  My shoulders sagged with relief. Part of me had dreaded having to convince him to return to his station. If things got bad with the Forgotten King, I didn’t want him charging to his death to rescue me. “I-I appreciate that.”

  Aunt Cendrilla also stepped forward, but Father placed a hand on her shoulder and Mother gave her a smack on the side of her neck with her wing. I supposed it would be difficult for her to stand aside while someone else saved the day.

  I turned to Aunt Cendrilla. “He stole my magic because we’re related. You and Mother need to go inside behind the fairy iron.”

  She furrowed her brows. “But—”

  “I will take her.” Father placed a kiss on my forehead. “You focus on the battle ahead. When you return, I will hold a banquet in your honor.�
�

  He ushered Aunt Cendrilla toward the wall of fairy iron and waved his hand, indicating for Madam Maritimus to open the wards.

  King Magnar stepped forward. “Byrrus has agreed to fight. May the three of us join you?”

  I glanced at Astri and Botilda, who each gave me genuine smiles and nods. “If you want, but keep your distance and attack when he’s at his weakest.”

  They nodded.

  Stafford stepped forward. “Fulmens and I will ride with you. I can use frozen flame, now.”

  I sucked in a breath. They’d bonded. “Congratulations!”

  “So will Phoenix and I,” said Evolene. I reached for her hand and smiled. She’d been with me through every single adventure since I’d joined the academy.

  Stafford gazed at the sky. “What do you think he’s doing out there?”

  “Stealing more power?” I folded my arms across my chest and scanned the horizon for signs of movement. “I can’t see him making much progress against the Queen of the Fairies with what he took from me.”

  We sat around for ages, waiting for the Forgotten King to show himself. I leaned my head on Niger’s shoulder. Now that I’d faced death and been rejuvenated with the power of so many others, considerations such as my being a quarter-ogre and too weak to be compatible with him no longer made sense.

  Niger wrapped an arm around my middle and kissed my forehead. “This time, he will not get the better of you.”

  Master Jesper waited at our sides and distributed an assortment of throwing daggers. “The blades are fairy iron, of course, but their hilts contain a similar enchantment imbued in devices alchemists use to steal the magic from witches.”

  The troll glanced from Evolene to King Magnar’s sisters. “Please keep the tips away from your bodies. There aren’t many, so wait for the right moment to throw them at the Forgotten King.”

  Just as dark clouds drifted across the moon, a clap of thunder filled the air.

  “He’s back,” said Fyrian.

  I raised my head. Three males in golden armor sat atop three golden dragons. A chill ran down my spine, making me shudder. Wiping sweaty palms on my breeches, I pulled myself up and squinted. “This is just like the display Albens put on in the Savannah Sky Commander contest.”